


Burn

by suliel



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gender-Neutral Apprentice (The Arcana), Grieving Julian, Julian Devorak angst, Julian gets revenge, Julian mourns Apprentice, Other, hey guy’s it’s my murder baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 06:52:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16444937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suliel/pseuds/suliel
Summary: Julian sneaks home to see his apprentice and finds only ashes in their place.





	Burn

He walks down the dark streets with a relieved bounce in his step. He has escaped that god forsaken, reeking dungeon for the night, and he will see his beloved apprentice again. He’s almost to their city quarter, now, and he can see their apothecary perfectly in his mind’s eye, can almost hear his love’s dulcet tones calling him home.

But then he smells the smoke.

He sees the red rope barring him from entering the quarter.

His heart stops short in his chest, eyes going wide, his final steps echoing in his ears.

No.

 _No_.

**_NO!_ **

 

The quarter has been reduced to rubble and ash. A few other plague doctors scuffle around the remains of the quarter, their bone-white masks washed out in the pale moonlight. He grabs one by the arm, his nerves aflame.

“What happened? Where’s it all gone?” He babbles out senselessly. He knows the answer, but refuses to admit it himself. The other masked man pauses with an air of pity and sorrow.

“Plague ran through the quarter ‘bout a week past. Whole street came down with it at once.” He explained bluntly. The plague had been around long enough that people had lost their graciousness when dealing with it. People came down with it and died day by day in droves. It wasn’t worth wasting your breath softening the blow of. “They was all evacuated to the Lazaret and the Countess has it all burned to see if it would stop it spreading. Sorry for what losses you had. Best stay away or you’ll catch it too.”

And the man wrenched himself from Julian’s stunned grip, shuffling off to continue rifiling through the rubble. _No_ , Julian thought. _No, this can’t have happened. No!_

He runs to the beach and snags one of the currently unoccupied boats without a second thought, braving the violent nighttime sea to reach the cursed island. His hands shake as the oars fight against him, as if the very waters themselves were trying to stop him from reaching his destination.

But he forces the boat through and reaches the black beach. His boots sink into the ashes and he runs, runs up the beach to where a few workers had just finished dumping a fresh pile of ash down the coast.

“Hey!” He shouts from under his mask, his outer jacket long since abandoned in his raft. “The people from the quarter— the southern quarter, where...“

The workers hesitated, and he immediately knew why. No. No! He stood dumbfounded. Somewhere in this mass of ash was the person he’d loved, scrambled up with every other person he had ever known on that street.

The workers silently scurry away, not willing to hang around and witness this stranger’s grief. He didn’t blame them. Dehumanizing the plague victims was sometimes the only way to cope with dealing with them. But he couldn’t bring himself to depersonalize this mound of ash.

He sank to his knees, feeling the soft ash give slightly under his weight. How many people were crumbled in the pile before him, all black, stinking ash and bone shards? Hell, how many people were coating this beach with their rained remains?

The tears are hot and suffocating in his mask and he rips the white beak from his face, not a thought for his own health on his mind. His entire life has gone up in flames. All he has left is ash, indiscernible and black. He tears his gloves off and sinks his hands into the fresh, searing ash, tears streaming down his face, and fished around for something, anything. His skin burned and seared as he plunged them down to his elbows in the still-smoking soot, choked sobs rising from his throat as he felt nothing but death and dust. He imagined, somehow, that he might feel a hand close around his and he will somehow be able to pull his love from this shapeless mass of remains, but all he finds is singeing ashes and sharp shards of bone that burn and cut at his hands.

He fishes out something, finally— a shapeless mass of gold. Could this have belonged to his lover? He had gifted them many a piece of gold jewelry over their years together, but so did every other couple. Perhaps if it was not so badly misshapen from the heat, he would be able to tell, but anything that would have discerned it as a specific piece of jewelry has been melted away by the furnaces. This could have belonged to anyone. He doesn’t even have the comfort of knowing he’s holding something juan lover once held. The lump of dull gold burns his palm and he lets it, the pain in his hands the only thing holding him to reality.

Damn that Lucio! Damn him to hell! Granted, the slimy goat of a man now had the plague as well, but _he_ would never know the misery these people faced. He would experience the sickness in the safety and comfort of the palace, when Julian’s love had wasted away alone on this cursed island.

He stared at the throbbing red blisters on his hands from digging in the fresh ashes numbly. That monster would know what these people felt, Julian decided. Lucio would know what Julian’s beloved apprentice had felt in their last minutes.

He pocketed the still-hot chunk of gold, wiped the tears from his eyes, then yanked his gloves and mask back on. He stormed back to the boat and fled towards the palace. The masquerade starts tomorrow. He has made up his mind. Lucio will burn just as his own life has burned around him.

Lucio will burn.


End file.
